


Culture Shock

by 35minutesago, I_AM_KING_DAD



Category: MORA - Fandom, Original Work
Genre: A/B/O, Alcohol, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arranged Marriage, Collars, First Time, First Time Bottoming, Hand Jobs, High Fantasy, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Ritual Public Sex, Rivalry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2018-11-14 13:30:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11209053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/35minutesago/pseuds/35minutesago, https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_AM_KING_DAD/pseuds/I_AM_KING_DAD
Summary: In order to keep the tenuous peace between the drow dynasty and orc clan, the leaders arrange a marriage between their sons. Malathios is an Alpha, and forced to adjust around large orcs who think their prince, Borabar, is the real Alpha. Will they be able to adjust and understand each other?





	1. Malathios Arrives

**Author's Note:**

> This is the beginning of a serialized roleplay my fiance and I are working on. It's the same OC's, Mal and Bora, but just a different AU where they meet through an arranged marriage, and what ensues. It'll get saucy soon!
> 
> 07/26/17 - Edited the first chapter a little bit to reflect a bit of retcon done in the second chapter.

The inside of the carriage grew musty from the hot summer sun. Malathios fanned himself feebly. Would this be how he’d spend the rest of his days, he wondered? Drenched in sweat, the drow ventured to push the thick blackout curtains from their window to peer outside. It must have been late afternoon, and he thanked the goddess he could actually view the world this time. Beady red eyes watered; he’d have to get used to it, and he absolutely abhorred the light. He wouldn’t let these monsters get to him. With pained squinting, he popped the window open and stuck his head out; plains after plains peppered with livestock stretched far into the horizon, with looming mountains further, and at its base, trees. He knew once they hit the forest, that the journey would be over, and he’d be married off haplessly to some half-orc his mother made a deal through.

He didn’t find it to be fair at all.  _ He  _ was supposed to be king. Prince Malathios of the Siavash dynasty was to be the first male heir to the throne. Instead, his cousin, Nyx, was to reign. Mal scoffed at the very thought. Pulling his shawls around him closer, one over his head, he pulled himself back into the carriage, but kept the window open, hidden by the blackout curtains. At this point he wanted to just get things over with and go through with the ceremony at Bellowmane keep. From what he’d managed to extract from his mother, Malathios was to marry a half-breed of this clan, an Alpha named Borabar. He felt insulted that his mother would use him as a bargaining chip to marry him off to some half-orc, and an Alpha, no less. Malathios, himself an Alpha, resolved he would be the dominant force in the relationship, regardless of being the only drow in the clan. Wringing his clawed black hands together, he nestled down into the cushions of the carriage, and hoped they’d at least reach the keep by nightfall.

There was no political power to be found now, nothing to strive for. Just bubbling hatred rising in his gut. He wondered casually what his husband would look like. Some hulking giant with no feelings except bloodlust and carnality. Gazing down at his hands, he surveyed the pattern of his skin fading at the elbows, freckling and eventually fading to a pale gray that made up his chest. He questioned whether he would be conventionally attractive to him. Not that it mattered. He pulled some fruit leather out of a bag sitting next to him and lazily chewed on it to occupy himself. Guessing that it would be a few more hours until his arrival, he settled back down and attempted to relax and bide his time. He certainly felt antsiness creep into his toes and up, legs idly bouncing from nerves. 

 

~

 

Bora paced his room, running his thumb idly over his tusk as he wondered for the millionth time what was in store. He peered out the window, despite knowing that the caravan containing his future husband was still hours away. His stomach ached, but he ignored it. He tried to keep his expression neutral, aloof, as he felt his head guard Lug’s eyes on him. No matter how he felt about the marriage arrangement personally, it was far too late to back down now. He had to appear strong, to make his parents proud. 

 

“You’re not fooling anyone,” a low rumble from the corner of the room chuckled. Ludwig, known as Lug, could see right through Bora’s nerves; of course he’d be able to, the two knew each other since birth. Raised together as orclings, Lug was easily promoted to head guard to keep Borabar safe. It was an easy choice, the full-blooded orc stood at an imposing eight feet, nearly dwarfing Bora, who stood at around six feet and four inches. His skin was thick and a rugged olive green, rather hairy, and impeccably muscular. He wore his hair in a simple top knot, and his eyes, though small compared to other features-most notably thick sideburns and soul patch with larged ringed tusks-actually sported a soft look to them. Both Lug and Bora were similar also in their gentle nature, though this had to be hidden from the rest of the clan, “Why so nervous?” he smirked, “It’s not like you have anything to worry about - now if you were marrying a drow  _ female _ , that’s a different story,” he crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. 

 

Bora furrowed his brow, giving a worried stare, “What kind of story?”

 

“Well,” Lug thoughtfully stroked his chin and couldn’t help but snort at Bora’s fear, “They’re taller than me,” he leveled a hand six inches above his head, going even higher, “and it’s a more-whaddya call it?-matriarchal culture,” he scratched at his chest, “Got a wicked set of ideals, and they basically live underground. Most females are alphas and they got black skin. Sharp teeth, too,” Lug waited to gauge Bora’s reaction.

 

The half-orc was thoroughly nervous now, one hand rubbing anxiously at the back of his neck, “You’re not joking?” his voice cracked a tiny bit.

 

Lug gave a hearty laugh and shook his head, “No, I’m not joking, but like I said, you’re lucky you’re betrothed to a male, and not one of them females...they’d gobble you up,” he winked.

 

Bora sat down on the edge of his bed, sage green skin clearly blanched. He wasn’t sure he had the fortitude to deal with this marriage. As the hours whittled away, he increasingly became more worried-was peace with a primarily underground race  _ that important  _ that his mother would put him in danger like that. He knew that this male would be Alpha, and his mother Kharzog-an Alpha herself-and father Joseph-a Beta-had told the drow Bora too was an Alpha, even though he wasn’t so sure anymore. Not that they’d tell the rest of the clan for fear of dishonor. He’d had to put up such a front in front of his peers, save for Lug, now he had to contend with more lies. It didn’t rest very easy in his stomach. He’d hoped that before he got married he could prove his parents wrong - he hadn’t had a heat yet-he couldn't possibly be an Omega-he  _ must  _ be a Beta. Right? He wouldn’t allow himself to become a mess, even though he was a little soft-bodied, he didn’t even have a knot.  

His hands found themselves rubbing his tusks again. It was another thing that bothered him. An Alpha would have them more pronounced, but his were rather small. His mother told him he was more like his father in resemblance, so that’s what he told himself, although he was certainly unsure. Bora  _ did  _ manage to grow a rather impressive beard, and he was certainly able to fight with the better of his clan, “You’re thinking too much about it,” Lug shook his head at him, “Do you want to be a mess when he arrives?”

 

Bora started and shook his head, “No, of course not...you’re right,”

 

“Besides, it doesn’t matter what anyone thinks. You’re going to be the next Chieftain, and you’ll lead us just fine. I’ve got your back,” he placed his hand on the sword sheathed at his side.

He smiled weakly, “You’re right,” though his nerves calmed at the thought of being Chieftain-something he truly did want to do as he loved his clan-he couldn’t help but think about the monstrosity he was set to marry. From what he heard of drow, they were sadistic, and pure evil. Maybe they wouldn’t have to socialize much. On the other hand, he deeply feared rejection. The conundrum silenced him as he lay on his bed, staring toward the window at the darkening sky.

 

~

 

Kharzog was close to retiring to her quarters. She’d waited all day for the envoy, and was growing weary. Perhaps they would be there by daybreak. Her thoughts were answered when a rather lanky woman appeared with Malathios in tow, “Good to know you made it safe,” Kharzog acknowledged the female drow and rested her eyes on her son’s betrothed. 

He was rather small; if she had to guess, a few inches under five feet. Wrapped up in britches, boots, and several long shawls closed by a broach in the shape of a spider, the scrawny thing could have been blown away by a horse fart. His face was rather pale for a drow, but darkened along the sides; his skin pattern reminded her of one of her horses. Rather than the standard long, untouched hair she’d seen males have in the Underdark, the sides of his black-to-blond strands were shaved and the top hung lank over one eye. The expression he held was a failed attempt to appear aloof, but she could tell in his tired eyes that the closer he drew toward her, the more frightened he was. As it should be.

Kharzog stood at a daunting seven-and-a-half feet, thick-muscled and brooding. She stooped over Malathios as he stopped at the edge of her throne, and scrutinized his look further. Her son should have no trouble keeping this one in line. Even as her age advanced, she was grateful that she still looked imposing. Though she was more than willing to fight, she grew tired and wanted to be able to go off on business her own. Maybe the deal with Lamya Siavash would be worth it afterall, “Did you have a good trip, drowling?” her deep voice purred.

Malathios froze in his spot. While his mother and any other drow woman was much taller than her, something about Kharzog screamed viciousness and commanded respect. Her skin, a lovely sage, was riddled with a variety of scars from many won battles. Her dark brown eyes are large and manic, with a miniscule, scrunched nose. Mal was surprised she even had both eyes with the way her battle prowess appeared to be. Her lips were wide, stretched slightly by a large, ringed tusk on her right side, and scar on her left where the other was supposed to be. Perhaps she didn’t win  _ all  _ her fights, but it sure increased her intimidation. Framed by her face were large, intricate braids interlaced with copper rings and charms-most likely created by a shaman. The skull of a large bird adorned the top of her head, set askew as a macabre hair accessory; that seemed to be the only thing Malathios liked about her appearance. He was too busy staring to realize she’d spoken to him. Roused from a expectant, “Hmmm?” the drow quickly blurted, “Your roads are pitted and uncomfortable, but there was no danger to be had.”

 

“Wonderful,” she couldn’t help but roll her eyes; he better not be an impudent brat on the day of the wedding. Looking to the drow woman escorting him, she gave a stiff smile, “We will escort him to his temporary quarters, and bring his luggage,” she urged a guard to follow the bewildered envoy out. Turning to Malathios, she placed her hands behind her back and smirked, “You’ll meet Borabar tomorrow during the wedding. My guards will take good care of you,” she looked to a remaining orc who stood at attention, staring curiously at the drow.

Malathios frowned and watched as the last remaining link to his culture left him. Not that he particularly  _ cared  _ for her, but now within the grey stole walls of Bellowmane Keep, he felt quite small and alone. 

“Don’t worry,” she huffed, “We don’t bite. Not like your kind, that is,” she pointed at her mouth, referencing to the sharp, black, pointed teeth that lined the mouths of every drow, “Thogmal, take our guest to his room,” she nodded to him, who complied, and bid Malathios farewell before returning to her own quarters to get some well-deserved sleep.

“Hope this is worth it,” Thogmal grumbled to the drow before leading him to the left and up a massive stone staircase. 


	2. The Wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for the two to finally meet at their wedding ceremony, and subsequently consecrate their marriage. Will they get along famously, or will the two have a lot to work through?

Malathios tried to treat his room like visiting an old friend’s place or a tavern. It didn’t work well, because it certainly wasn’t a tavern room he’d rent on his own. The furs on the bed sprawled out before him, and while it wasn’t silk, they were cozy, perhaps even a little charming. He did have warmth from a heaving fireplace, and the grey stone walls weren’t completely hideous with the maroon and bronze banners adorning the wall. Upon further inspection, the Bellowmane tabard was rather powerful; a menacing boar, and behind it, an axe. Quaint. He wondered if he’d be able to house any spider sigils, or if that would be forbidden.  _ I suppose I could get used to this _ , he thought to himself. 

It took him over an hour to go to sleep, but the little room he was in was fairly quiet, to his benefit. He snuggled into the furs and before he knew it, there was heavy knocking on his door. Malathios found himself precariously entangled-he must have slept rather fitfully. They let themselves in. Two orcs appeared, holding bundles of leather. A bit leaner and more well-dressed than the others, he guessed it was time for his fitting. He would have preferred spider silk wedding garb, but he didn’t have a say at this point. Dislodging himself from the covers, he greeted them both quietly, and was surprised at their cordiality, “Do I get a bath?” he felt slick with sweat. 

“Of course, one of the chambermaids will assist you in getting ready, this is just the fitting.” 

“Lovely,” he murmured, and stretched his arms out to be measured. 

****

//////////////

****

Bora tried to keep his expression disinterested as the tailor fussed over him. His wedding vestments only needed a few adjustments- they had been preparing for this day for a long time. He felt uncomfortable under all of the heavy leather and fur, although his chest was exposed, keeping him from overheating. The clothes were similar to the normal gear he would wear to spar, or for battle, if that day ever came, except these were more ornate, with delicate engraving on the leather and gold details that shone in the light. His hair was still up in his standard plain topknot for now, but for the real wedding his locks would be twisted into traditional orcish braids. He didn't feel worthy of the clothes, more like a child playing dress up than a future chieftain, but Lug, watching from the corner, seemed to approve. 

****

“That's enough,” Bora said, waving away the attendant. 

****

“Just a few more adjustments,” he said, rearranging the fit of Bora’s leather kilt so that it fit snugly around his waist. 

****

“I said it was enough,” he snapped. The tailor nodded and quickly left his chambers, and Bora’s gut churned with guilt. He shouldn't have snapped at him, he was just doing his job, but he was anxious and cranky. Lug laughed.

****

“You're not the chieftain yet, Borabar. Don't let it go to your head.” 

****

Bora rubbed at his tusk. “It's not that.” He quickly pulled off the leather harness and holsters from his torso, and changed back to his normal, more comfortable clothes. His night wasn't over yet; he still had to get through dinner with his parents. 

****

//////////

****

Malathios sighed contentedly as he sank deeper into the copper tub filled with hot water and calming bath salts that he himself could not recognize the scent of. It was much more pleasant than what he could find in the Underdark.  Although under constant watch of many orcs, he was beginning to get used to it. The two handmaidens who were laying out his clothing for him were busy mumbling in orcish, something Malathios never bothered to pick up himself. He sank further into the tub until his pointed little ears were submerged, and the guttural grunts of the orcs became distant murmurs. He questioned whether or not his future husband spoke such a simplistic, boring language and snorted making bubbles arise to the surface. 

Suddenly he was yanked up by his armpits, “Enough soaking, you need a scrub,” one scolded, pulling out a rough looking brush. He gave them a worried, bewildered look; his skin was much more sensitive than any orcs.

“Such a filthy drowling. We’ll get that clay off,” the more matronly of the two dipped the brush in the water and pulled his arms out. Starting with the gradient at his elbow, she began to scrub roughly.

Malathios watched, at first with patience, then annoyance, as the brush scrubbed into his arm and then over his chest roughly, obviously making no progress, “That’s just my skin,” he said quietly.

“This clay is stuck on. Do they give baths where you’re from?” the younger handmaiden chuckled and leaned up against the tub. Mal felt uncomfortably exposed, almost embarrassed if he wasn’t so comfortable in his body.

After the scrubbing caused his skin to blotch up, he finally snapped, “That’s not clay, that’s just the color of my skin,” and pulled his arm away, rubbing the area tenderly. The two looked at each other in confusion, and gazed closer at him in curiosity. 

“They picked a rather motley-looking drow, aren’t they supposed to be all black?” the younger one asked.

“Don’t know, drowling needs to be cleaned up though,” the older pulled him so he was sitting up in the tub. The young maiden, with dirty blonde hair wrapped in buns, stared into the water, eyeing him up.

_ “He’s not got a cock,” _ she remarked, puzzled. 

_ “O’course he’s got a cock,” _ the older one said, chiding in Orcish. Mal looked up at her confused, but was met with a splash on water from an urn in his face. He coughed and hardly noticed a hand plunge into the water as he moved his hair from his eyesight.

_ “Nar, it’s just a little bit of flesh-like a skin tag,”  _ her hand wiggled at his sheath, and Mal drew himself away quickly.

“Must be like a mongrel,” the other grunted in English before handing a towel to Mal, allowing him to dry his hair. 

“What are you  _ doing? _ ” he shuddered as fingers toyed with the soft flesh that he himself had not attended to in some time. The young orc giggled, and her partner didn’t seem to want to stop her from investigating. 

“Omegas are strange,” she grinned and gasped when she saw the tip of his member poke out from the sheath, “Oh  _ my  _ he  _ does _ have a cock!” 

“Excuse you!” Malathios shouted and kicked at her hand. The other two laughed and he scrambled to get out of the tub.

“Easy, omega prince,” the slightly taken aback elder murmured. 

“I want to go to my room,” he stomped his foot and grabbed at a fluffy towel, wrapping it around his waist. Hot splotches of red formed at his high cheekbones. Omega? Is that what they thought he was? Is this the life he was going to lead? Was the reason the bargain happened in the first place was that they were  _ lying  _ about his status? Before he could ruin anything by telling them off, he quickly trotted out of the room with soggy, plodded steps and his clothing bundled in his arms while the women were left to chuckle and whisper amongst themselves. Thogmal, outside the door, followed behind him to his room. 

****

////////////////////////

****

Bora paced restlessly outside the door of his parents’ chambers, waiting for his mother’s guards to escort him inside. He didn't know why they'd asked him to come here for a private dinner, as opposed to the traditional meal in the dining hall with everyone else, but none of the reasons he could imagine were good. He rubbed at his tusk, trying to keep himself calm. Maybe they'd decided that he wasn't ready to become the next chief, or they might have decided to choose someone else. Maybe his new husband wasn't to his mother’s liking, and she'd decided to send him back.

****

The door opened and Bora looked helplessly back towards Lug. For once, his bodyguard would not be accompanying him. The orc nodded at him reassuringly, and with a deep breath, he stepped inside. 

****

His mother’s quarters were simple and clean. She didn’t like to collect unnecessary sentimental items, so many of the surfaces were bare. Bora had been here before, of course, but the occasions were rare. Both of his parents were seated on cushions on the floor when he walked in. Joseph smiled at him, while Kharzog nodded to her guards, prompting them to leave the room. 

****

“I know you’re wondering why you were asked here. We felt the information was too sensitive to discuss in the hall where others might overhear.” 

****

Bora’s blood ran cold. So it was bad news, then. 

****

“Why don’t you go ahead and sit down, Borabar,” Joseph said, gesturing to a cushion across from them. Bora wordlessly obeyed. “We have some information about your future husband to share with you.” 

****

“He’s an Alpha,” Kharzog said bluntly. Bora’s pulse quickened. Of all the things he’d considered, that hadn’t been on his mind. His cheeks flushed with humiliation. He’d gone through with his training without complaint, tried to be agreeable and obedient, to be a good son and a good leader, but this was too much. When the tribe found out he’d had to find some foreign Alpha to come rule over him, he would never again have their respect. 

****

“No one will know,” Joseph said quickly, sensing Bora’s unease.

****

Kharzog leaned back, gauging Bora’s reaction. She always knew her son was, well, soft. He’d never go into battle, and she knew that when he was at a very early age. That’s why the bargaining with the drow was so important. She knew once she stepped down and he took her place, she could manage their army just fine; even Joseph could do that. Joseph harbored that same kind of softness. She always resented that trait being passed down to her son, “This has to be kept quiet from everyone, Bora, even Lug,” she knew he’d confided almost everything to his personal guard, “In order to keep the peace within the clan and succeed me, the rest regard him as an Omega, but certain actions need to take place…” she paused.

****

Bora looked over to her and cocked his head to the side, “I won’t tell anyone,” he knew how much this meant to Kharzog. And to him, “What ‘actions’?” he looked to Joseph in confusion, who remained silent, looking at him with a pained expression.

****

This was where Kharzog herself shifted uncomfortably. She ruminated on a piece of lamb taken from her plate, before speaking, “Bora, there are some battles that must be fought, that aren’t with axes or swords…” she trailed off, and looked over at Joseph. Joseph nodded, urging her on, “We know this isn’t something that you thought yourself doing, but war is war. In order to keep peace with the drow, they offered to withdraw their forces, and we’ve returned their prisoner’s of war. I can’t keep fighting forever-though I’d like to-” Kharzog chuckled to herself.

****

“We both know you’re-eh-” Joseph ran fingers through his beard, blue eyes dark with sadness, “Gentle, and probably would not enjoy being a warlord.”

****

Bora bristled and eyed the food on his own plate. He didn’t want to look at his mother or father while he felt so uncomfortable. Cheeks burning a fiery crimson, he continued to listen as Kharzog nodded to Joseph and went on, “This was our best option to barter peace, and in order to keep this facade up, you have to act the part of an Alpha,” Bora heard this before. His mother’s troops advanced so close to the UnderDark that they’d managed to capture a high priestess-nothing they’d ever been able to do before. In order to stave them off and barter peace, Lamya-his betrothed’s mother-offered her son and several shipments of expensive spider silk and mythril armaments, “This means-hm we’ve never had this talk-” Kharzog seemed flustered.

****

She stood up from her meal and shuffled across her quarters toward a roaring fire place. It was obvious this would be as uncomfortable for her as it was embarrassing for Bora, “Borabar,” she cleared her throat, “Some battles, you’re going to have to fight. Bedding your husband will be one of them,” she eyed the flames warily. 

****

_ Oh no. Not this.  _

****

After a brief silence, she continued, “It’s crucial you assert your dominance over Malathios; drow are incredibly shifty, and though males are almost selectively bred to be docile and complacent, this one’s a bit...different. I’ve seen a fire in his eyes. You must be in control from the beginning and not relent, because not only will you be watched, but you can’t let him see your sweetness, he’ll prey on it. Bora, do you understand?” she tried to keep her statements as vague as possible, clearly she wished Bora would prove to be an equally powerful Alpha. Perhaps her thinking was his tendencies would begin to show once he found a mate.

****

His mother’s words made Bora’s already racing pulse jump. What did she mean by “different”? He rubbed at his tusk as visions of gigantic, hulking female drow filled his mind once more. Were Alpha males really that different? “I- I'm sure I will be able to perform my duties,” he choked out stoically, trying his hardest to hide his nerves. 

****

Kharzog shook her head, “That’s not what I’m concerned about, I know you’re very devoted to your clan,” she looked off to the side, folding her hands behind her back, “The consummation is what I’m worried about,” she narrowed her eyes; Bora could feel himself shrinking under her gaze, “Malathios is rather, hmmm crafty, and I wouldn’t put it past him to purposely try to take advantage of you. That is why you have to break him,” a snapping gesture with her hands made Bora wince, “Do  _ not  _ let him think for a second that he has authority over you,” she breathed in deeply, “We’ve taken...precautions,”

****

“A collar,” Joseph made a grim expression, “Can’t give him any ideas.”

****

“-Or the audience,” she murmured, “Borabar, if you’re going to exert any force on anyone, the bedchamber is where you have to-and hopefully it will be enough of a message that you are not to be trifled with.”

****

Bora could feel himself blushing. He no longer felt like he knew exactly what was expected of him. “I- I'm not sure I understand. You want me to… hurt him?” The thought made his stomach churn. 

****

Joseph and Kharzog exchanged panicked looks and his father decided to jump in, “No, no, no, what she means is-”

****

“You need to show him who the boss is. Don’t be afraid to be rough with him in bed, because it starts there. Once he knows his place there, it should fall into line elsewhere,” she wrung her hands and sat back down. She grabbed a spoon and tucked into her meal, hoping that a full mouth would punctuate the situation. Bora, now knowing what he had to do, blanched and looked down at his plate. Dinner never looked less appealing.

****

//////////////////////////

****

Bora rose the next morning barely feeling like he'd slept at all. He had an uneasy mindset that led him to believe he'd dreamed of his husband-to-be, but he couldn't remember any details. He tried to push the feeling from his mind as he washed and began dressing himself. 

****

He only had time to pull on his soft, black leather war kilt before he was interrupted by his servants fussing over him. He wished he would be left alone to dress himself, but he tried not to snap at them, they were just doing their duty. Besides, the harness on his chest had intricate ties and knots that would be difficult to put on himself. Another servant fussed over his hair, brushing it and braiding it into the same traditional braids worn by his mother on her wedding day, and the chief before her. Despite his nerves, that thought gave him a comforting strength. 

****

“Chief?” Lug said, raising his eyebrows. “Are you ready? The tribe is waiting.” 

****

Bora knew he couldn't stall any longer. With a nod, he walked from the room, flanked by his guard as always. He stopped as he reached the door to the courtyard, pausing for a moment with his hand on the wood. With a deep breath, he pushed it open, ready to finally see his husband on the other side. 

****

His betrothed stood on the other side of Bellowmane Keep’s vast atrium. A large, rectangular plot of land surrounded by thick, grey stone walls, was primarily used for vegetable gardening. Neatly arranged in methodical plots, stalks of corn lined the side with vast arrays of leafy, bountiful vegetables and tubers. It was the peak of growing season, and each plot was in full bloom, ready to be picked. (Such convenience for the feast tonight.) Toward the middle, where the ceremony was being held, was a small apiary-it was temporarily moved for today-surrounded by several fruit trees-exotic and domestic-and a miniscule field of flowers and herbs. They were more concerned about functionality rather than decoration. Clear across the other side of the atrium and under the awning, waiting to walk into the middle was a small figure, much smaller than anyone else he’d never seen, Bora’s soon-to-be-husband, Malathios. 

****

The closer Bora walked toward the center, the more discernable the drow’s features became. Thin black straps criss-crossed over pale grey skin. On his shoulders, epaulets made of raven feathers squared off delicate shoulders. His red eyes looked bleary, squinty, but widening at the view of flowers. In fact, he seemed rather distracted. Thick, full lips were parted with a look of wonder. His bare arms were black as pitch until they reached his elbows, dissolving into the soft charcoal of his chest and face. His cheeks were dotted with black freckles, which blended into the back of his head and neck. A much shorter black leather kilt adorned his hips tightly, and up his skinny black legs he wore tightly strapped sandals. The fat of thick thighs poked through the gaps in the straps, which honestly looked rather appealing. Bora could have almost swore he was wearing stockings; his legs, similar to his arms, ended their black hue at mid thigh, and it seemed to resemble the pattern of a dapple grey horse Bora’d seen in the stables once. In his hands, the drow held a small pillow - like the one he was holding, harboring the rings they would exchange. 

****

Malathios looked over at his new husband, and was surprised he was much smaller than any other orc in the keep. He’d never seen a half-breed before, and by the looks of him, he seemed rather strapping. His beard was thick and clean, and although he was muscular he seemed soft. His tusks were smaller than expected and Mal found himself immediately attracted to him. Perhaps this  _ could  _ be a working marriage. Even his braids were beautiful. However, he knew what to expect, and kept his face blank, looking off to the side over at the flowers, which he’d never seen anything like them before in his life, transfixed on the beautiful colors. Perhaps it would make him seem shy, but he wasn’t concerned about first impressions.

****

Bora walked steadily across the courtyard, trying to ignore the stares of his tribe. Instead, he stared at Malathios. The drow didn't seem to mind, or even notice, as he continued to look at the plants around them. Perhaps he was shy, or afraid. Bora couldn't blame him. He was so small, almost unbelievably so. Bora was used to being the smallest person in the room, surrounded by full orcs, but he dwarfed the drow. 

****

They reached the center of the garden and took their place in front of the shaman, with Bora’s parents sitting not far behind. Bora stole a glance towards them, and couldn't help but smile when he saw the pride in his mother's eyes. 

****

The ceremony itself was spartan, or at least Malathios thought it would be since it didn’t last long. It felt like ages to him. He couldn’t understand one word coming out of the grizzled shaman’s mouth. Everyone else seemed to. At one point in the beginning, the group roared with laughter at what seemed to be a light-hearted joke she made. Mal kept his eyes on the luscious little purple flowers. They looked soft, he wished he could touch them, but he figured that would be uncouth; especially since all eyes were on him. He could hardly pay attention.

****

His squashed button nose could smell the fragrant blooms, and that made him smile gently to himself. Fortunately, it was during that point Bora reached out to place the ring delicately on Mal’s finger. He was surprised by how gentle the half-orc was, gazing down at him tentatively. He had a sweet face, and it made his heart swell just a little bit...he bit that back down and kept his straight face. From his own little pillow, he plucked the simple ring from it. It was his turn. He looked to the shaman, as he supposed he would have to recite something in orcish. Too bad he was never coached previously. (Perhaps he was, but he never listed.) He did his best to recite the words - at least from what he understood. Snickers amongst the audience led him to believe that he was pronouncing things completely wrong. Even Bora gave a bit of a chuckle. Once Malathios put the ring on, he became antsy. When would this be over? He zoned out as the shaman spoke, back at the flowers and blooms, wondering their functions. It was only until Bora leaned in, that he realized their wedding would be sealed with a kiss. He closed his eyes and allowed the half-orc to kiss him, hearing cheers from the audience. It wasn’t so bad, even though the ivory tusks pushed against his lips clumsily, and before he knew it, it was over.

****

Finally, the attention would be off the two of them. After much cheering, the shaman took Bora’s right and Mal’s left hands, and bound them with two long strings, one maroon, one bronze. Malathios gathered that it was a symbol of him joining the Bellowmane clan. He stared blankly up at his new husband, as the two were led, walking in unison, to another location. Now, as his mother had told him, it would be a great feast. Unfortunately, he was too nervous to even want to eat, but was led with his new husband down the center of the garden.

****

His hands were so warm and large, which to Mal, was quite comforting. He hadn’t felt a comforting presence in a while. Malathios bristled in order to remain aloof. Gliding along with Bora’s long footsteps, they walked down a straight pathway to the mead hall that the drow had yet to step foot in. The large, cathedral ceilings were crisscrossed with wooden beams and skylights. Candles decorated the halls with local flora and more flowers from the garden. This was the most pleasing part to Mal. Tables peppered the area, and a raised platform he assumed was for guests of honor. They were led to the center and sat down. Turreens of food were brought out, but Mal elected to have his cup filled with a spiced wine he’d had the night before, and drank from it deeply. If what he thought was going to happen were to, he was going to want to drink. He was quick to order another, his plate filled with cooked boar and potatoes untouched. 

****

Bora couldn't help but stare at his new husband. He drank a worrying amount for someone so small, but, it was a celebration, so Bora allowed it. He ate a serving of every dish that was passed around, delicious foods normally reserved for the most special of occasions. He smiled widely as members of the clan stopped by the table, clapping him on the back or refilling his chalice as they bid him congratulations. More than one made a bawdy joke about the evening to come; thankfully these jokes were in orcish and Bora was fairly certain Mal could not understand. 

****

Once he'd lost count of how many times his cup had been filled, he could feel the heat on his cheeks. The orcs around them were talking and laughing loudly amongst themselves, leaving the new couple alone in the middle of a crowd. Bora leaned in, though he still had to speak loudly to be heard over the noise. “You're much smaller than I thought you would be,” he said, looking Mal over once more. To his surprise, the drow looked offended. “That's not bad!” He added quickly. An awkward, tense beat passed between them. Bora reached up with his unbound hand towards Mal’s cheek. “I like your spots.” Mal huffed and looked away, and Bora’s stomach tightened, knowing he'd said the wrong thing again. He rubbed at his tusk, and returned to his meal, content to leave his new husband alone. 

Malathios, though incredibly touch-starved pretended to be against any physical contact, “Thank you,” he murmured plainly. He loved the caress and wanted to lean into it, but refused. He decided if he was going to let things happen it would be on his own terms. He pulled his new husband's hand closer to him, middle finger rubbing at the palm, “Bora,” leaning up to the half-orc’s ear he whispered, “Do.you wanna take a little peak?” He couldn’t keep himself from having a plastered grin on his face, black sharp teeth glinting. Their bound hands reached his thigh, slowly moving upward toward his short, leather kilt.

****

Bora stared at his new husband with shock and amazement. How lewd. Was this the impudence and trickery his mother warned about the night before. He only had a moment to think of a response, and pulled his hand away with a cold glare, “I’m saving that for  _ later, _ ” he did his best to match the menacing grin; although he didn’t have the rows of sharp teeth Malathios did, but his tusks were a tad imposing.  _ Got to show him who’s boss _ , Bora thought to himself.

****

The drow shrunk back, face falling, effectively silenced. Bora won this round, but Bora himself didn’t feel like he won anything. In fact, he felt a little mean.  _ That’s just what he wants you to feel _ , he stole a glance from a cupbearer, and took a flagon of ale. Malathios quietly drained his goblet, nose and cheeks reddening and he looked off at the reveling crowd. 

****

It seemed to be set up like a large house party rather than a formal dining event he would see in the Underdark. Partygoers were strewn across the hall, but it spilled out past it. The whole keep seemed to be alive with chatter, in common and orcish, and soon Malathios was growing a little tired of it. His lids were heavy, and honestly, he was looking a bit forward to the consummation. Malathios longed to be touched, even though he’d rather be doing the touching, himself. He had so many questions for his husband, but let them go unsaid, as Bora seemed to now understand his halted body language. The half-orc was sitting up strong, acting-at least what Malathios perceived-to be a proper chieftain. Malathios’ vision became blurry from the swathes of candles placed throughout, and soon, it was almost as if someone read his mind. He looked up to see a tall, imposing figure behind him. It was Thogmal, staring down at him. As gently as possible, he plucked the strings from their hands apart. It must be time. Mal stole a glance over to Bora, “Bedtime already?” he said in a soft voice to really the only orc he trusted in the whole keep, and allowed himself to be ushered away, grabbing onto his guard’s arm tightly to keep himself up, while giving Bora a tentative, icey stare. 

****

Bora watched him go, his stomach clenching with anxiety. He didn’t have much time left until he would be expected to… perform. Lug must have seen a look pass over his face, as he was soon pushing another full goblet into his hands. 

****

“To the chief!” he bellowed, raising his own goblet far above his head. The orcs around them cheered, lifting their own to toast Bora. He grinned and took a long drink. Things went on like that for a while, as the tribe circled around and gave Bora their congratulations, and he got more and more drunk, the nerves slipping away. Eventually, he noticed that his parents, along with several other high ranking members of the tribe, disappeared. He rubbed at his tusk as he realized that meant it was almost time. As soon as the thought crossed his mind, the shaman approached his table. Without a word, he nodded and rose shakily to his feet. He put on a brave face, wanting to look strong in front of the tribe, which was all watching him and cheering for him. He had no doubt that many of them wished they could witness the ceremony as well, but thankfully, that was not allowed. He realized he was stalling, and snapped himself out of it, following the shaman out of the mead hall and toward his private quarters. 

****

Malathios waited in the room while the others quietly spoke amongst themselves. His stomach did flip flops as he thought about having to perform this...ritual in front of a group of people. Told to lay placidly in the bed, he couldn’t help but feel a little impatient. How many times did he have to hear the same advice and jokes over and over again? The drow was already prepped. It was strange, alien experience that he chose to not pay much attention to. This was all business, right? He had a reputation to uphold; he needed to be frigid and ruthless. This would be his time to get back at Bora to let him know who was in charge. Malathios was stripped, save for a black leather and silver collar that wrapped thick around his neck. One of the maids held his leash taught, even though he sat boredly in the expansive bed, head swirling in a mass of feelings spanning confusion and slight arousal. Constant murmuring filled the room-they always made sure they spoke in orcish around Mal- and knocking on the door ushered in the shaman and Bora. 

****

Bora entered the room with his head held high, determined to appear as the strong leader he was supposed to be. His eyes widened when they landed on Mal, waiting for him on the bed meekly. He was collared and subdued, the very picture of a submissive Omega. He felt his cock jump with interest. His arousal flagged when he saw his mother sitting at the foot of the bed, a tense expression on her face, and his father beside her. Still, he knew what he had to do. He approached the bed and lowered himself onto his knees in front of Mal, taking his leash into his hand. 

****

Mal stared at him blankly, allowing his gaze to harden. Inside he was aching. Leaning against rough-spun pillows, he ran his hands down the sides of his neck, arms, and down his torso. He budged the covers a bit to invite the half-orc in. It felt like a horn was blaring in his ear, part of him was hesitant to allow this, the other was clamouring for the attention. Something about being near another virile male made him feel much more alive. He’d make sure he wouldn’t get the once-over on him again, “Well?” he whispered silently, spreading his legs and lowering the furrs from his hips, inviting Bora to finally take a look. 

****

Bora’s eyes roamed hungrily over Mal’s body. The skimpy outfit at the wedding had given him an idea of what Mal looked like, but he still wasn't quite prepared. His eyebrows furrowed as he looked Mal over and realized he had no visible genitalia. How was he an Alpha…? Bora didn't want to think about it. He was grateful that the ceremony dictated that he keep himself clothed, so he would be free from this level of scrutiny from Mal. The thought gave him strength, reminded him that he was in control. Before he could stop himself, he reached out to run a hand down Mal’s chest. 

****

Shivering at the touch of a heavy, calloused hand on him, he quietly sighed. He refused to look Bora in the eye, as much as he absolutely wanted to. In terms of orc men he certainly hit the jackpot. He wouldn’t give him the satisfaction until he was dominant. Being in such a position didn’t arouse him enough, but he arched into the caresses regardless. He scooted himself closer to Bora, holding his thighs wide open, reaching out to have his new husband rub his hands along his thighs. He smirked at Bora as he led his hands.  

****

Bora could feel his hands shaking slightly, but he hoped Mal wouldn't notice. Certainly none of their spectators would be able to see, which is all that really mattered. Bora dug his fingers into the pliant flesh, loving the way Mal’s plush thighs felt under his hands. From the tiny moan that escaped Mal, he liked the rough touch. Bora smirked and did it again. He looked down to see Mal growing hard, his previously sheathed and hidden penis was becoming erect. His stomach clenched at the sight, and he couldn't stop himself from curiously wrapping a hand around him. 

****

      Shuddering violently, Mal could feel himself harden at a rapid pace. He squirmed and flipped onto his belly with great difficulty so no one could see him at full mast. Wishing he could explain, he raised his ass up, burying his face in his arm in embarrassment. There were a few offended snorts, but it seemed like only Mal was aware of his genitals, which he didn't want placed up to scrutiny. He arched his back in the most enticing manner he could muster, waiting for Bora to get down to business or punish him.

****

Bora tried to hide his surprise as Mal switched positions. It was his say who did what and when, and he had half a mind to flip Mal over again, but he saw the way Mal hid his face, maybe he was ashamed to be doing this in front of an audience. His heart softened and he decided to go with it without making a fuss. Besides, the view of Mal’s round backside was just as nice. He scooted close behind him, rubbing his still clothed erection up against Mal’s ass, teasing him. 

****

He let out a quiet whine, and spread his thighs, presenting himself angled upward. By the looks of it, someone had helped prep Malathios, the end of a plug visible for Bora's view. The drow did his best to hide his cock from his husband, but wasn't afraid to push back against the half-orc’s groin, “Do it,” he growled low, nearly inaudible. His thighs quivered again and he held his breath waiting for a reaction from his demand.

****

Bora grunted and tried to ignore that the shaman had started speaking, a long intonation in orcish about the ceremony and their union blessing the tribe and bringing prosperity, all sorts of things Bora didn't have the fortitude to think about at the present moment. He took it as a signal to really begin, and he drew himself out of his pants under his kilt. 

****

Mal couldn't help but sneak a peak behind him. He was pleasantly surprised to find Bora would probably be a good fit. He reached behind to run a hand across the back of his thigh, and to pull the small plug from himself with a gentle pop. Malathios was sufficiently slicked up; easily prepared for his husband. Wriggling he furrowed his brow, now visibly becoming impatient, especially with the added chatter from the shaman. Bora seemed to be hesitant.

****

Bora was surprised by how much Mal seemed to be rushing things along. If it were him, he would stall as much as possible. He realized that was exactly what he was doing, and without further thought or hesitation, he lined himself up to Mal’s entrance and began to push himself in. He let out a low groan, unprepared for how pleasant the sensation would actually be. He'd never done this before, and he was so worried about the ceremony itself he'd spent very little time thinking about what it would actually feel like. He thrust his hips, gripping Mal tighter as he did, figuring he was already prepped enough. 

****

The initial thrust brought stars to Mal’s eyes and he stifled a high-pitched moan as Bora’s cock brushed a rather sensitive spot. In all honestly, he hated the idea of being subjugated, and pushed back against Bora, almost violently, “Yes,” he groaned, the sounds coming from him absolutely salacious and wanton. It almost sounded as if he was mocking Bora rather than truly enjoying the charade, sounds exaggerated, like he was acting. However, Malathios wanted to feel that initial sensation again.

****

Bora frowned, pausing. Was Mal… mocking him? Now? He thrust a bit harder, trying to ignore Mal’s wanton moaning. Maybe if he fucked him hard enough, Mal would be too breathless to make those embarrassing sounds. 

****

Mal broke into a cold sweat, his body overstimulated from such thrusting. He felt the collar tighten, the leash pulling back, and suddenly he lost his voice. All he could do was let out a few strangled squeaks, before he caught the hint and shut his mouth. His face began to flush terribly, skin producing red splotches. He pushed back harder, hoping the increase in friction would bring his husband closer. The sheer embarrassment from the quiet murmuring of the audience, semi-cheers for Bora, and chiding and whispering about himself grew too much. His cock ached and he grew close from the sheer spectacle, clenching himself for Bora and now devolving into pathetic whimpers.

****

Mal’s clenching around him was too much, and despite himself, Bora couldn't stop from coming. He let out a low groan as he spilled into the drow, his fingers gripping his hips tightly, bound to leave bruises. He panted heavily as he recovered, distantly aware of the cheers in the room. The shaman appeared at his side as he withdrew, and wiped a smear of ashes, meant to bring health prosperity and fortune, across his chest, cheeks, and forehead. She wrapped a cloth around his waist and helped him to his feet, as his mother approached to embrace him. 

****

“Well done, Borabar,” she said, her voice soft enough that only he could hear. She left the room, and others followed her lead, embracing him and giving him encouragement before heading on their way. He spared a glance at Mal, disregarded and left alone on the bed, his back facing them. His stomach clenched with guilt, before he was distracted by another member of the council demanding his attention. 

****

Malathios could feel the ache of future bruises on his hips and flopped over gracelessly onto his side. No one would notice that he did so, their eyes were on the new chief. His fingers reached up to pull the collar off in a desperate manner; he wouldn’t be caught dead in that any time soon. His cock ached horribly; the drow was unsure whether or not to finish himself off, or wait until everyone left to chew out his husband and demand release. He opted to crawl under the covers and stare blankly at the council until they filed out of the room, giving well wishes and last minute tips of advice. Once they crowd left, he sat up to look at Bora expectantly, hands underneath the covers.

****

Bora took a deep breath, only realizing how tense and exhausted he was once he was left alone. Of course, he remembered as he turned away from the door, he wasn't alone at all. Mal was still here, as he would be now for the rest of their lives, tucked into bed and giving him a dark stare. The silence was suffocating, but he didn't know what to say. He extinguished the lamps, until the only light came from the embers simmering in the fireplace. Wordlessly, he took his place in bed besides his new husband. 

****

Malathios curled down into the furs, but narrowed his eyes at Bora as he walked forward. He lifted his head up to catch a scent of his sweat. Appealing, wholeheartedly masculine. Mal was thankful the lights were out, and he couldn’t help but enjoy the feeling of someone next to him in bed. Hand slipping down to touch his thighs and cock, he resolved to keep himself as quiet as possible. Bora didn’t have to know. Breathing heavily through his nose, he turned so he was no longer facing him, and scooted himself toward the edge of his side. He figured Bora would be too tired to notice or retaliate. 

****

Bora lay stiffly, listening to the sound of Mal shifting beside him. He was fairly certain he was touching himself, but Bora hesitated, wanting to help but unsure if his touch was wanted. He rest a tentative hand on Mal’s hip, rubbing gently. “Would you-? I can, if you'd like,” he stammered, embarrassing himself. 

****

Now Mal was hesitating, allowing his hand to sliding up and down the shaft at a slow pace, “W-would I what?” his voice cracked and in a sense sounded hopeful, but otherwise guarded. He found himself pressing into the heavy hand on his hip, eyes rolling in his head. He let out the smallest of groans, hopefully willing Bora to take action again. 

****

“I can help,” he said softly. His pride kept him from apologizing, but he did feel badly about leaving him. His hand inched closer, and he listened closely as Mal’s breath hitched, as he wrapped a hand around Mal’s considerable length. Bora was fascinated, he'd never touched anyone like this before. He moved closer, pressing his front up against Mal’s back. 

****

Any resistance immediately melted away for Malathios, “Yes, Borabar.. _ please,”  _ his voice thick with desire. He figured he'd get more out of it if he used his husband's name. Hips bucking ever-so-gently, he allowed Bora to feel him as he wished. The length of his dick was incredibly slippery, the scent of his sex utterly pleasant. The seduction that took over his olfactory senses alone was enough to nearly hypnotize Bora.

****

He rested his forehead on Mal’s shoulder, breathing in the scent of his sweat as he rubbed him. The drow was pliant under him, with no sign of the sourness and petulance he had before. Maybe everyone who'd warned him about him was wrong, and he just needed to be shown some tenderness. Happily, Bora could oblige.

****

He thrust against his hand and reached behind himself to caress the side of Bora's face, “T-thank you,” he began and led the half-orc’s hand to rub against his ebony cock, “Y-you can...you can touch harder,” he had half a mind to face his new partner, feeling bolder by the minute. 

****

Bora obeyed quickly, eager to please his new husband. “Like this?” he asked, but Mal was too breathless to respond. To Bora’s surprise, he was growing under his fingers. Curiously, he tried to peer over Mal’s shoulder, but it was too dark to see. 

****

Malathios could feel his new husband straining to see his knot swell, keeping it from withdrawing into its sheath. He was so close, “Just like that,” Mal choked out and moved away so that he could plant his back onto the bed, and removed any covers in the way. The appendage itself was incredibly impressive, although difficult to see in the dark; truly Malathios was an Alpha, if not by attitude then by this.He could feel himself shuddering, especially in the thighs. His mind felt clouded by wine and pleasant touches, and with only a few strokes of Bora’s hand, he mewled and came in the half-orc’s hand and on his own stomach, cock raised and spasming.

****

Bora watched in fascination, awed by Mal’s body. The bulge at the base of his cock was like nothing Bora had ever seen, though the rest of it seemed to function just like his own. The come on his hand was warm to the touch, nearly hot, and he wiped it carelessly on the blankets. He lay on his back next to Mal, listening to his panting breaths as he recovered. 

****

It took quite some time for the knot to soften, and in one movement, his cock slithered back like it’d never been there at all. The little drow was staring up at the canopy of the bed, but turned when it was over. His face changed. Mal was clearly mulling on some words, and took a deep breath, “You’re not going to touch me unless I tell you too,” he growled and drew closer to Bora, placing a hand on his chest, and scratching his fingers downward, “and this?” he reached over to hold up the leash by the lead, “No more.  _ You  _ can wear it if you want,” he slurred and stared at it for a few moments, before moving to reach for Bora’s hand, “but you weren’t bad,” he tried to give Bora at least a little compliment, “but I should be the one inside you _ ,  _ are you sure you're not a  _ Beta?”  _ the word was nearly spat out. 

****

Bora’s face flushed, taken by surprise by Mal’s vehemence. “How dare you,” he said softly, his voice tense and cold, in disbelief that Mal had spoken to him in such a way. “I am the chief and you will do as I  _ say, _ ” he sat up, grabbed the drows wrist with one hand, and shoved him into the bed with another. Bora leaned in close, “ _ Whenever  _ I say,” keeping his voice as menacing as possible. 

****

Malathios, initially shocked by the sudden shove, wheezed a little laugh. To be honest, he was terribly frightened, but refused to let it show, “What’re you gonna do? Hurt your husband on your wedding night? Go ahead,  _ I dare you. _ ” 

****

He stared down at Mal, truly vexed the little creature seemed to have no scruples. Alright, perhaps his family won out with being correct. This is something that would have to wait until the morning, as he was growing incredibly tired from the amount of stress, and frankly, lying in bed in the near-dark wasn’t helping either. He pulled himself away, flipped over onto his side away from him, and grumbled, “Just go to sleep.”

****

“That’s what I thought,” Mal whispered near inaudibly, and gracefully turned onto his side to drift into a fitful slumber.  


	3. A Rough Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The marriage is certainly starting with some contention. How long will this last? Bora looks for advice. Mal makes a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back, I'm going to try to write smaller chapters instead, I think that would be easier! I'd certainly like to keep this on at least a bi-weekly schedule.

When Bora woke the next morning it was still dark in the room, the barest hint of light coming in from the rising sun, giving everything a dreamlike haze. He blinked a couple of times, clearing his mind of the strange dreams he’d had. Surprised, he realized his hunting hound was in the bed with him, a warm pressure up against his stomach. His mother usually forbid the dogs in his quarters, so he was surprised- until he looked down and realized with a start that it was not his hound, of course, but his new husband. Bora stayed as still as possible, realizing that Mal was still asleep. 

Malathios, only slightly bothered by the twitch in movement, curled into Bora further; his face pressed up against Bora’s chest, clawed little hands flat against his stomach, the nails only slightly digging in. A near inaudible whine escaped his lips, pulling himself in closer. Little legs found themselves tangling with Bora’s, and the little elf seemed rather comfortable. It must have been too cold during the night and he subconsciously moved up against Bora, who was like a furnace. His cheek rubbed against his chest and peaked up over the furs, full lips parted and lids heavy with sleep. His lashes were long and droopy, his face the picture of tranquility. 

Bora didn’t even want to breathe, at the risk of disturbing him. He seemed so sweet and serene, a far cry from his behavior the night before. Bora’s stomach clenched as he remembered Mal’s taunt about being a Beta. He would just have to be firm with him, to prove that he was going to be the Alpha between them, regardless of their physiology. He lay his head back on the pillows and stared at the ceiling, determined not to dwell on it. He would rather sit quietly and enjoy the stillness, before Mal woke and spoiled it. 

The drow seemed content to stay there a while. Every once in awhile he’d atonally hum, which would normally be sweet and endearing if Bora hadn’t resented him from the night before. Mal buried himself further until he was as close as possible, his little fingers worming their way through hair and over the flesh of Bora’s stomach. When light sufficiently streamed through the window, dust motes peppering empty space, Malathios nuzzled into Bora, eyes sleepily opening. He blinked a few times and remembered just where he was, looking up at his new husband. A growl bubbled in his throat, but he bit it back. Removing his hands, he disengaged himself and scoot himself backwards, “Good morning,” he said warily. He gauged for a reaction.

“Good morning,” Bora said, blushing a little and feeling like he was caught doing something he shouldn’t. 

Malathios slid from the covers, his naked form much easier to see in the light of day. He didn’t bother covering himself, not that there was much to show. He knew his items were packed into a bureau on his side of the room, and reaching into the simple oak chest to grab a long black robe. Wrapping himself in it, he looked over at Bora, “If you think I’m going to let you fuck me in the morning, you’d be wrong,” his eyes narrowed. There was no way that he’d curled up next to Bora willingly. He must have done something. Even if he did do it himself, he refused to admit it, “Why don’t you go get something to eat?” he waved at the door before sitting on the edge of the bed. He stared at the now extinguished fireplace and thought to himself he’d probably have to learn to stoke a fire, something that he himself wasn’t incredibly comfortable with. 

Bora bristled. “I don’t take orders from you, and I’d advise you remember that,” he growled, frustrated that Mal had gone back to his normal self so quickly. Of course the peace wouldn’t last. He quickly pulled on his trousers and stormed from the room, letting the door bang loudly shut behind him. Lug stood in the hall with another guard, and he followed as Bora continued down the hall. 

“Well? How did it go?” he asked, keeping his voice low but unable to hide his amused curiosity. 

“Not well,” Bora replied shortly. “He’s horrible. Rude, entitled, difficult-” He stopped himself, not wanting to reveal too much. Although he normally told Lug everything, he was embarrassed at how such a little thing like Mal got the better of him. “I don’t want to discuss it.” Lug nodded, and they sat down at their usual places in the dining hall for breakfast. Bora considered leaving Mal to starve, but guilt got the better of him and he summoned Thalmog with orders to send food up to their room. 

///////////////

Malathios perused through a case of books he brought, taking them out of his luggage and placing them delicately on shelves. He muttered in anger the words Bora said before he left, ears still ringing from the door slam, “Guess this is the rest of my life then,” he looked around the stark room and it felt more like a prison than anything else. He could make it comfier in time. The one saving grace were that the large windows faced into the center of the keep at the surrounding plot of land where their wedding ceremony took place. Malathios could see himself staring out at the flowers longingly; pleasant floral scents wafted through the window and he thought maybe to order someone to bring him a book on these plants. The only other plants he saw in the Underdark were mushrooms and flowers imported, but normally they fit the dark theme. 

A knock at the door had him growl and order the guest to come in. Thalmog tentatively opened the door with a tray of food and water. He set the tray down without a word and turned to leave, but Mal had other plans, “Come in and have a seat,” he shut the door before the guard could leave, and sat the confused orc down in a large armchair, electing to sit on a floor pillow himself, “I’d like you to stay a while,” he nodded to the fire, and in his most cordial advice asked if he could stoke the fire. Thalmog, with a blank face, obliged.

Malathios surveyed his food. One dippy egg with some fresh bread lobbed with butter, several different types of fruit he could not identify, and frankly, he wasn’t too much of a fan of any of these things. He’d seen eggs before, but never really took to them. Using his nails to crack it open, he sucked out the soft boiled mess inside and smiled when Thalmog brought the fire to a dull roar, “Thank you,” he muttered, and reached out with one of the fruit, “Sit down and eat with me,” he said his voice uncharacteristically soft, “Tell me, what do you know about drow culture?”

//////////////////////////

After Bora finished his meal, he resolved to throw himself into his duties to take his mind off of Mal. It wasn't difficult, considering most of the day was spent following his mother, attending her meetings, and trying to learn how to follow in her footsteps. It was something he had been prepared for his whole life, but after the wedding, it was starting to finally feel real. 

He avoided their room at lunch and dinner, but again made sure to have meals sent up to his difficult husband. Bora could tell by the curious stares that the tribe had, of course, noticed Mal’s absence, but thankfully no one questioned him about it. He spent a couple of hours in the evening sparring and training with Lug, but eventually, he knew he could no longer avoid returning to his chambers. 

Malathios was sitting on the floor pillow, reading quietly aloud from a large back book to Thogmal, who was slumped in his chair, calm and nearly asleep. In his other hand, Mal had a large goblet, presumably of the same wine he drank the night before. He eyed Bora as he walked in and gently placed a hand on Thogmal’s arm, “You can go about your other duties,” his voice was willowy and smooth. The orc sat up with a start, panickedly wiping a line of drool from his smooth baby face, and saluting to his chieftain, exited the room.

“Nice of you to join,” he kept his tone even and drank deeply from his goblet, “How time flies,” he stood up and moved to the window, looking into the atrium which was bathed in dim moonlight.

Bora prickled at the implied accusation that he was not being attentive enough. “I'm the chief and I have more responsibilities than minding you all day,” he said shortly. The words came out harsher than he intended, but there was something about Mal that put him instantly on edge. 

Mal seemed surprised, “I'm not an idiot, Bora,” he furrowed his brow, drained his goblet, and moved over to the bed, “That's why Thogmal is here, right?” he changed during the day, sporting a soft white dressing gown, and from his fragrant, enticing scent-what was that roses?-he'd bathed too. He removed his gown and sank under the covers and looked at Bora with a teasing smile.

Bora eyed him suspiciously, but he let it pass. He put out the lanterns and removed his trousers before climbing in to bed. His actions were tense and awkward, but he tried to act confident so Mal wouldn't notice. Being back in his bedchamber reminded him why he'd been avoiding it all day. All he could think of were memories of the night before. 

Drawing close for only a moment, Malathios laid one hand on Bora's chest and murmured quietly, “Good night, husband,” sliding his hand down his chest and then pulling away to his side of the bed. He made sure the half-orc could feel his presence for only a moment before breathing a whispery sigh and a yawn, turning away from him, readying himself for sleep.

“Mal, wait,” Bora said, putting his hand on Mal’s arm. The drow looked coyly over his shoulder. “Maybe we should… I mean, we haven't bonded yet. It is our duty.” Bora hoped he wouldn't have to be any more explicit, he was embarrassed enough as it was. 

He tensed under Bora's hand and turned to face him, “I suppose we should,” he knew nothing would happen, but he craved the contact, Bora was so warm. He curled up into the other man, hands back onto Bora's bare chest. Staring at him through the darkness, he hummed expectantly, hoping this time would be less strenuous than last night with no one around.

He let out a sigh of relief, grateful that Mal didn't seem to want to hold this over him. “Good, alright.” Without the aid of alcohol or a ceremony, Bora floundered. “So…” 

Mal placed a finger and thumb on the bridge of his nose, pinching it with a sigh, “Just start touching me,” he reaching over and grabbed Bora’s hands, placing one on his side and another on his face. It was a craving he’d had, the touch of his husband, even though he did his best to seem like this was just business to him. Leaning his cheek into his hand, he knew in the back of his head he’d probably have to take the lead-were they really serious that Bora was Alpha?-he constantly had doubts about this. 

Bora rubbed his thumb tenderly over Mal’s cheek. In the dim light he could barely make out the dark shapes of Mal’s freckles. The hand on his waist tightened, rubbing the soft skin gently. Being this close to him was already getting Bora excited. 

Mal bit back a soft sigh and faintly nuzzled into him. He could tell by the way Bora held him that he was clearly not used to this. Neither was he, but he wasn’t about to let that get the best of him. He crawled forward into Bora’s lap, fitting neatly there and ran his hands over the half-orc’s chest, brushing past his nipples and massaging the skin, pushing him backward onto the bed. Feeling Bora’s cock stiffening, he chose to ignore it until the last minute, egging him on.

Bora was tense, unsure of what Mal meant to do. He thought for a moment that Mal intended for him to be the receptive partner, and he nearly bucked him off, but Mal gentled him with a hand on his shoulder, and another on his chest pushing him back down against the bed. “Trust me,” he said quietly. Against his own instincts, Bora did. He took a deep breath and calmed himself. Mal smirked at him, pleased that Bora obeyed. He pressed himself backwards, rutting up against Bora’s hard cock, teasing him. 

In the darkness Bora could see Mal reaching for an item off to the side; he clearly planned for for something to happen, and Bora’s panic continued to rise again. Mal seemed to fumble with it in his hands, and when he returned his attention to his husband, he reached down to grasp the half-orc’s cock. His fingers were cold and slick, hands idly running up and down the length, coating him in a slippery substance. He straddled Bora’s hips, but before lining himself up, he arched his back and in a tantalizing motion reached between his legs with two fingers while carefully watching Bora. He absolutely loved his night vision…

Bora watched, transfixed. He'd almost forgotten that Mal needed slick, as omegas made their own. Of course, he remembered with a jolt, Mal was not an omega. Thankfully the sight was so arousing, Bora couldn't think clearly. He gripped Mal’s hips firmly, moving him closer. 

Malathios smacked Bora’s hands away, fingers playing at his entrance still, the head of his member now poking out from the sheath. He took his time; he wanted this to be painfully slow for Bora. This time, he would be in control. Lowering himself downward, he felt the tip of Bora’s cock pushing gently at the taut muscle. At an achingly slow pace, he felt it push past and he let out a little whine. As long as he could keep Bora like this, he could do this all night.

Bora moaned, throwing his head back against the pillows. He was still unsure how he felt about Mal, but already he wondered how he lived so long without this. Mal felt exquisite around him, velvet and warm, but the pace was killing him. With a growl, he gripped at Mal’s hips again, holding on tight enough to bruise. He hurried the pace himself, easily lifting Mal up and pulling him down again, thrusting his hips to get as deep as possible. Mal tipped forward, pressing his hands flat against Bora’s chest for balance. 

The drow let out a pathetic cry, “N-no,” he said feebly, “Stop it-” but from how his body was responding, it seemed to be what he wanted all along. His cock slipped out of the sheath, swollen and heavy and bobbing with every thrust. He cursed under his breath, fingers reaching up to pinch and play with Bora’s nipples. He wanted to put his mouth on the half-orc, but wasn't in the mood to be swat at. On one hand, Bora was ruining his plans, but on the other hand, this felt too delicious to not let him get away with it. This time, his moans seemed to be a little bit more earnest, but he looked away shyly, hoping Bora couldn’t see, while he calculated whether or not he could regain control of the situation. 

Bora thrust harder, loving the little sounds he was drawing out of Mal. He could try to act cool, but Bora knew he liked this as much as he did. He kept one hand steady on Mal’s hip, but the other reached down to stroke Mal’s strange cock. It didn't look anything like Bora’s, but it seemed to function the same way, and from the way Mal gasped when he rubbed his thumb over the head, touching it was just as pleasurable. 

The harder Bora thrusted, the more wanton the sounds Mal made. He hated the way his body was responding, but he’d never done anything like this and couldn’t figure out a way to keep himself level. He met Bora’s thrusts by pushing downward, but tried his hardest to get Bora’s hand off his cock. It leaked pre, hot and pleasant-smelling down the shaft and over the half-orc’s hand. He pushed at his husband’s chest, trying to keep a straight face, but he just couldn’t. 

“You look so good like this,” Bora said softly, a tone of awe in his voice. He hadn't really meant to say it, but the thought occurred to him and slipped out. Regardless, it was true. Mal clenched around him, and Bora could feel himself on edge. He buried himself deep into Mal, holding his hips steady, and came. 

Flustered, Mal couldn’t find anything biting or venomous to say. He let Bora win this round, but blushed in embarrassment. His body shook violently, and he moaned, gripping at Bora’s arms. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the full feeling he got from Bora cumming inside him. His own cock twitched, and he wrapped a hand around it tightly over the half-orc’s, sliding it up and down the shaft as quickly as possible, clenching again as he came; a little on his stomach, and some on Bora’s. He pulled himself away and growled, hurriedly getting under the covers and looking at Bora for a fleeting moment before turning away. He didn’t want the other to think that he enjoyed it. 

Bora yawned, overcome with exhaustion. Still, he felt a little abandoned by Mal’s cold demeanor. “Goodnight,” he said quietly. He didn't get a response. 

////

Malathios woke up in the middle of the night, looking over at Bora to make sure he was asleep. Good. He wanted to see that garden. He slipped out of bed, putting on his dressing gown again, and snuck over to the door as quickly as possible. If he wasn’t a prince, he’d have been a great rogue. Except for that door. He struggled to open it, slipping out, but it slammed behind him. Well, shit. Hopefully, his husband would still be asleep. Malathios calculated where he would have to go through the halls, and he was thankful that the keep didn’t seem to have too many guards near the atrium at night. In fact, he was a little shocked that there were so little guards in the area.

His bare feet touched the grass when he reached the center, and he could smell the outside, pure and fresh. He clutched his hands close to his chest and looked at the vegetables, not as interested as he was with the flowers. That purple patch that he viewed during the wedding he shuffled over to, and kneeled down to give a deep sniff. Perfection. He could stay here forever if he wanted to…

Bora woke at the sound of the door slamming, he rolled over and started to go back to sleep, when he realized Mal was missing. 

“Don't worry, he's in the garden,” a voice said, startling Bora even more. His eyes adjusted to the darkness, and he saw Lug’s silhouette at the window. 

“Huh?” Bora grunted sleepily, as he crawled out of bed to join him. He looked down and sure enough, by the light of the moon he could see Mal’s small figure below. “What's he doing?” 

Lug shrugged. “I followed him for a while, but he just seems to want to smell the flowers. I left him to it. Seems harmless enough.” 

Bora nodded. He trusted Lug, but he couldn't help but think that Mal was still up to something. Maybe he had a plan to escape, or he was contacting his family to go back on their treaty- 

“Go back to sleep, Bora. I'll keep an eye on him.” 

He was being ridiculous. Mal had his quirks, and he had seemed to love the flowers during the ceremony. Bora yawned and left Lug to his duty, crawling back into bed and almost instantly going back to sleep. 

//////////

Malatios pressed his face into the flowers; such a beautiful scent! He loved every second of it, and if he didn’t see the Underdark again, it would be fine. Mal didn’t notice Lug catching him, which even if he didn’t he wouldn’t care. He laid in the grass, grasping the strands and groaning and just how beautiful nature would be. If he ever returned home, which he doubted he would, he would try to figure out a way to grow these beautiful, tiny flowers. For a long time he remained there, overwhelming his senses and adoring the sky above him. Perhaps he should learn astronomy. That would be different! A drow astronomer. It had a strangely pleasant ring to it. 

After quite some time amongst the flowers and vegetables, he realized he should probably go back, just in case Bora woke up. Scuttling upward, he padded his way back to the room, hoping that the other didn’t wake up, and that he was successful in his escape. Opening the door, he slipped behind it, realizing that entering was much easier that exiting. Closing in on Bora, he cuddled into him, he didn’t say a word, just wrapping an arm around him hoping that the other man would think that it was a coincidence.

Lug had left their room when Mal got up to leave the garden, leaving things exactly where he left them. Bora woke up for a second when Mal snuggled up against him, and he grunted happily in his near-sleeping state, pulling him closer. 

For the briefest moment, he squeezed Bora’s side affectionately, and pressed his face into Bora’s warm skin. He could definitely get used to this. Despite his failure to control their time together earlier, he definitely enjoyed Bora telling him what to do. He’d never admit it to his husband, but he supposed he could let himself go at night to enjoy him. Bellowmane Keep wasn’t the Underdark, but there were bits and pieces to enjoy here and there. With a final kiss on his chest, he drifted off to sleep, this time not as fitful as the night before. 

/////////

The next day operated quite the same as the one before. And the day after that. And the day after that. Bora woke up before Malathios, who was again curled up next to him, cuddled in for warmth. It was beginning to feel like deja vu. In all honesty, he cherished this time, because having a warm body pressed against him wasn’t something he was technically used to; his family wasn’t one to show physical affection. When Mal woke up, he was silent, and moved over to the window to look outside. Mal refused to leave his quarters except to bathe, and hid in his room reading dusty old tomes and his guard, Thalmog, apparently content to spend his days withering away in a dark room.

Bora didn’t have time to fight with him over this, going to breakfast alone, and facing silent scrutiny as to why his husband wasn’t appearing since their wedding. He could hear small titters of jokes-even though to his benefit-embarrassing him greatly. To his people, the drow needed to rest as the Chieftain was doing his best to keep him in check. Relieved they couldn’t see the true nature of their relationship, he let these whispers slide and did his best to enjoy his day. Kharzog never mentioned it, but he could feel her eyes on him with questioning glances. 

In the evening, Bora returned to their room and Malathios was always with Thalmog. Throughout the week the orc became more animated, seemingly involved in their conversation. At night, the two attempted to bond, but it never felt anything special, just business. Malathios barely spoke a word to him, and Bora kept noticing Mal attempt to leave for the garden, coming back sometimes hours later, but Bora could always peek him in the same spot. At the end of the week, he'd finally grown tired, even worried about the behavior. 

He'd hoped that things would work out on their own, that Mal’s chilly exterior would thaw and they would bond naturally, as they were supposed to. When that failed to happen, Bora turned to his father for advice. He caught Joseph alone, while his mother was in a meeting. Joseph was contentedly working with the horses in the stable, gently speaking to one of them when Bora interrupted.

“Father?” Bora found himself feeling meek and quiet.

As always, Joseph looked up from his tasks to Bora with a smile, “Chieftain,” he said coyly, “Come closer,” he beckoned with a laugh.  
Bora’s father always treated him with a familiar kindness, but never too much-which was probably spurred on by Kharzog. He drew closer to the human who waited for him expectantly, a knowing look indicating he may already know what Bora was about to ask.

“I’m having issues...with Malathios,” he said slowly, and Joseph nodded in understanding.

“I figured you did, but I wasn’t going to ask until you came to me,” he set a curry comb down, bringing full attention to his son, “having trouble bonding?” he asked lightly.

Bora was stunned. It was that obvious? “Y-yes that’s exactly what’s happening. He just - doesn’t like me. He doesn’t want anything to do with me. All he wants is to sit in his room and read and honestly-” he leaned in a bit closer to whisper, “I’m suspicious about the time he’s spending with his guard,” his voice picked back up, “then at night, he just goes to the garden and lays around in the flowers!”

Joseph listened thoughtfully, nodding every so often, running a couple of fingers through his graying brown beard, “I think I can relate to that,” he frowned, “It was not easy when your mother and I married; we didn’t really like each other either. After a while, and after we bonded, there was a mutual understanding in our relationship that we had to work together,” he meshed his fingers together, “I think you need to spend more time with him, and listen to what he has to say. Let him know that you’re interested in his life, instead of demanding he completely assimilates to this new one.” 

“I guess...I guess I was focusing so much on being Chieftain that it never occurred to me,” Bora’s cheeks burned, but Joseph patted him on the shoulder.

“This isn’t something you’ve ever done before, Bora, sure you can strategize, fight, train animals...but this is completely new territory to you. It’s not a thing one just picks up easily, like a sword, or a comb,” he gestured to the brush he set down earlier. 

Bora nodded, and felt like he’d been given a second wind, “You’re right,” he smiled broadly and his father patted him before turning to his work, “Thank you,”

“Of course…” he sounded distracted, going back to the impatient horse in its stable.

//////////

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the lovely comments and support! I'm so sorry it's been a few months. <3


End file.
